Timeframe: In between the NO MAN'S LAND thing (Gotham's Earthquake) and the DAY 
OF JUDGEMENT thing (Hell on earth, literally) 

Archive: Neither pop up nor MST

A Little Slice of Heaven
by Indigo (indigo@indigosky.net)

***

I joked...I quipped...with what felt like it was going to be my last breath. The 
fever was eating me alive, and my vision was blurring. The image of her face was 
swimming before my eyes, but I had to still keep up the facade. A holdover, I 
suppose, from my Robin days, when I was the smart-ass Boy Punster. 

If I hadn't passed out in a puddle of slime, blood and saltwater on her floor, 
she probably would've gone upside my head with her stick. Never let it be said 
that Babs is helpless, even if she is confined to a wheelchair. She had the 
option -- and still does -- to have surgery to change that. She chose to remain 
where she is, and take the consequences of her actions. 

And me? I crawled out of the stinking hellhole Blackgate had become, at the 
bidding of my oldest, dearest, friend and mentor...and came here. To Gotham 
Heights. To Babs. 

And passed out on her floor. 

I'm lucky she's sweet-natured. If I'd gone to Bruce, I'd have been hoisted to my 
feet, told to suck it up, and then set in front of a medkit to bandage my own 
wounds. 

I was in bad shape. Really bad shape. Acrobatics and bravado aside, I know if 
not for Babs and her ministrations, I'd have died. Simple as that. I saw my 
parents beckoning me into the light. It was tough to tell them no. But there's 
still so much...too much to do. I couldn't leave my other family to handle it 
all. I couldn't abandon the war, leaving that kind of hole in the ranks. So I 
went from almost-dead to only mostly dead. I wonder if Babs has a chocolate 
coated pill in her bag of tricks. 

***

I woke on her sofa, in a pair of old sweatpants, an all-weather-blanket-insert 
wrapped around me. God knows how she wrestled my 175 pounds of dead (and 
probably extremely stinky) weight from her balcony, through her dining room, to 
her living room...God only knows how she got my uniform off me, let alone onto 
the sofa. She's a strong woman, but she never ceases to amaze me. 

***

I ache all over, but my face is bandaged. My broken ribs. My arm. She's even 
washed my hair. How long have I been out?! By now, no doubt he knows I was 
successful taking back Blackgate. I hope Tim got what he was sent for as well. I 
wish I could summon the strength to stand, nevermind leaping into the night, 
braving the closed, clammy darkness and checking personally. The kid's bright, 
and he's sharp. But if I got knocked for this kind of loop, I can only imagine 
what kind of hell Tim's facing in the sewers. 

***

I've a fever; I can feel it. My body shivers even under the warmth Babs has 
provided. My vision blurs, and occasionally I hallucinate. Kory looks really 
ridiculous in the KGBeast's outfit. Wally looks even more laughable in Batman's 
cape. I know it's my workaholic sense of reason telling me to get off my lazy 
ass and go with the Titans. I know I want to follow its urgings. I also know 
that I feel warm and safe here for the first time in memory, and I don't want to 
leave. Is that why I haven't even tried to get up to go to the bathroom? She 
spared me the ignominy of having to use a bedpan. I will, eventually, have to 
answer that call of nature. Once I get rehydrated. 

***

I haven't seen her once since I staggered in. I know she's here, though. I can 
hear the stacatto tappity-tap-tap of her fingers on that ergonomic keyboard. I 
can occasionally hear her whisper and curse into her head mike. But she's 
keeping her tones low, her voice soft. So as not to disturb me. She's not an 
Oracle. She's an angel. 

***

Raven? 

I must be hallucinating again; I haven't seen Raven since we got Vic back. It's 
so hard to hold myself awake. 

***

It's night again. Or still? My time sense is all distorted. How long have I been 
asleep? 

God, I'm STARVING. 

And I have got to *go*! That's a good sign, then. Let's see if my legs will hold 
me up. Time to get moving, Grayson, the world won't wait for you forever. 

WHOA! 

Ooookay. The spirit's willing but the flesh is just not up for it yet. I make a 
grab for the 
sofa, but my sick body isn't having any of it. I go down with a loud thunk and a 
crash, hoping I didn't break anything important. 

"Dick?" 

"Yeah," I call, sheepishly. "I'm awake. I think." 

"About time. I was about to call Leslie." 

Oh, God, if she was ready to call Leslie, she must've been worried. "How long 
have I been out?" 

"Four days," Babs says, as matter of factly as telling me what the weather's 
like. But I know better. She was worried. Bless her. 

I marshal my strength, make it to the bathroom, answer the call of nature, then 
stagger into her computer room. "Hey." 

She turns to look at me and I can tell she's had no sleep. Her usually lustrous 
auburn hair hangs in limp strands to her shoulders, and her coffee cup sits at 
her elbow, forgotten and cold. I was beginning to think the Grayson charm had 
abandoned me that I didn't wake to her gentle ministrations. But something's 
going down. Something serious. "What is it?" I place a hand on her shoulder and 
can feel her trembling through her Gotham Knights sweatshirt. It was a gift from 
me, and strangely I find that comforting right now. 

"Hell has frozen over," Babs says in response, and I almost laugh. I catch 
myself, though, because I can see that expression on her face, reflected in her 
monitor screen. She's not kidding. 

I turn to head back to the living room, my mended uniform. Her firm hand at my 
elbow holds me fast. I could drag her away from her computer if I tried. But I 
don't. She looks up at me and shakes her head. "You're *sick*, Dick. And let me 
say again, Hell. Has frozen. Over. *LITERALLY.* This is out of your sphere. Go 
back and lie down." 

After staring at her in dumbfounded silence for a full minute (Hell has frozen 
over, literally?!), I bend and kiss Babs on the forehead. "You're right, though 
I'll deny admitting it when I'm well again." 

She laughs and kisses my chin. "Go back to bed. Soon as I can catch a break, 
I'll make you some soup." 

"How's Bruce doing?" I ask, lingering. 

"Mr. Intense?" Babs chuckles. "There are demons in the streets and he's being as 
calm and collected as ever. Me, I'd be a nervous wreck. Superman got turned into 
a pillar of salt!" 

I suddenly feel my head swim again, and I nod, slowly. Oh yeah, this is way out 
of my sphere, I think in the safety of my own skull. You can't fight demons with 
escrima. 

I fall asleep again on the sofa, and wake to the aroma of chicken soup. "Open up 
the hangar, here comes the airplane!" Green eyes twinkle playfully behind those 
glasses and I realize how beautiful she is, despite being sleep deprived and 
spending her time nursing me back to health. 

Obediently, I open my mouth and eat chicken soup. I think it's the TLC rather 
than the noodles that makes it go down my raw, sore throat as easily as this. 

Hell may be freezing over, but for the moment, I am gonna be selfish and 
properly appreciate my little slice of heaven. 



End